Dare Not a Desperate Man
by Evgeniya
Summary: Geoffrey tries using pieces from his past to put together a future. But he discovers that nostalgia isn't what it used to be. Warning: discipline/spanking of an adult male, and slash.


**Author's Note:** Well, seeing as I had to request a Slings & Arrow category myself, I'm pretty sure this story only entertains me. :) I requested the addition of this category back in 2011. It's actually why I joined ffnet to begin with. Sadly, I had to admit to myself that my stories were bad. Oh, yes, they were! Two years later and I finally got around to fixing a few of them! Yay! And in two years, I'm still the only one to add a S&A story... So, I think it's safe to say not many people are reading this right now. But I post because I love the small fandoms!

**Summary:** Geoffrey tries using pieces from his past to put together a future. But he discovers that nostalgia isn't what it used to be. **Warning:** discipline/spanking of an adult male, and slash.

* * *

**DARE NOT A DESPERATE MAN**

by Evgeniya

Geoffrey tried to shoulder his way through the hallway without being noticed, but even if he had crawled through the trenches of New Burbage on his hands and knees, he still would have been ensnared by just the sound of his name.

"Geoffrey, do you have a moment?" Richard called out just before he reached the door.

Stiffening and cursing, Geoffrey slowly turned around. "Richard, whatever it is, I'm going to have to leave you in Anna's capable hands. But I have every confidence that you and she can handle any situation presented before you."

Geoffrey spun around once more until the sound of another name stopped him in his tracks.

"It's Darren."

A couple sheets of papers slipped from beneath his arms and Geoffrey slowly unclenched his jaw enough to say, "Of course it is." Then he proceeded to retreat back inside the safety of his office.

Oblivious to the hint, Richard followed after Geoffrey. He smiled nervously when Geoff greeted him with an expression that was something less of welcoming. "I-I'm sure you're well aware by now that his actors have been wandering around… somewhat aimlessly."

That seemed to be customary in New Burbage, so Geoffrey shut his eyes for a moment and just let his exhausted breath burst from his lungs. "Shit, Richard, I'm already late for rehearsals." He even managed to sound apologetic, but then his hands slipped over piles of papers on his desk that nearly sent him tumbling. He quickly collected himself and stood agape at the mess. "There is melted chocolate everywhere!"

"Oh." Richard face twisted momentarily at the mess on Geoffrey's desk. Then he looked at the mess that was Geoffrey Tennant. "I see you have more important issues to deal with. I didn't mean to bother you; I just thought you should know. There's no need to worry over such a little thing like, oh, I don't know… your **job**!"

"Yes, Richard, thank you for understanding!" Geoffrey snapped and proceeded to wipe his hands up and down his jacket. Unfortunately, he could still feel Richard's anxious eyes all over him and decided it was best to impart some wisdom about the great Darren Nichols:

"It is not unusual for people to act like zombies after an encounter with Darren," he grumbled as he worked to get his desk in order. "That's what he does! He makes you feel numb inside. That's how he survives; by feeding off of the life force of others. It's… it's… one of those fucked up mind games we directors like to play."

Geoffrey hoped to end the conversation with a consoling smile, but Richard just blinked in response.

"Maybe so…" Richard agreed reluctantly before he suddenly found his footing. "Look, Geoffrey! I'm not saying I doubt you. It's just that no one's seen Darren in days. He's had zero contact with the crew. He had plenty of opportunities to turn the company into… _zombies_… but he hasn't shown up at all! That's where my concerns lie."

Geoffrey briefly raised his eyebrow as he mulled over the seriousness of the situation. Then he quickly feigned a shrug. "Nah… No big deal. I've missed two rehearsals already and you don't see any of us bumbling about the festival."

Richard blinked for a full minute before he could finally force some half-words out. "Uhhh… well, umm… _two_…?" He could feel his throat tightening until he couldn't contain himself any longer and just blurted out, "Jesus Christ, Geoffrey! Look at yourself! Your life is as chaotic your desk!"

Geoffrey slapped a heap of papers back onto his desk. Then he pointed to it with grave severity. "This isn't my mess. Alright, Richard? _This_ was _never_ my mess."

Richard made a great effort to ignore that comment and reminded himself to deal with the task at hand. "Darren _needs_ to address the problems with the play before its official opening." His voice sounded pleading at first, but then it quickly turned demanding. "Severe adjustments have to be made! I just thought you'd like to know seeing that you're the artistic director and all. Believe it or not, Geoffrey, but the success or failure of this festival reflects upon you as well. I can promise you that there won't be another May Silverstone to save your skin."

Slumping his shoulders and groaning eternally, Geoffrey opened his mouth to retort, but something unspeakable stopped him.

"_Tell him you'll handle it."_

Geoffrey instantly snapped his eyes shut and whimpered. He momentarily prayed to some unforeseen force that what he was about to see would not be there.

Sadly, Geoffrey opened his eyes and moaned in disgust. He saw Oliver standing just a couple of feet behind Richard.

"What?" Geoffrey snorted in disbelief. "What in god's name do you think you're doing?"

"Tell him you'll handle it," Oliver repeated with more insistence.

"I'm telling you to do your job!" Richard instructed firmly. "God knows Darren doesn't respond to me, but he seems to think you're his… his… oh, how did he put it…?"

"Creative conduit," Geoffrey offered somberly.

"Yes! That's it!"

Geoffrey shivered at the phrase until he finally reigned himself in enough to just stand completely still. Something inside him still believed that Oliver could not see him if he didn't move. It was a desperate attempt, because he knew it never worked before. However, his eyes couldn't handle the temptation. Almost against his will, his eyes wandered to meet Oliver's. They stared at each for some time, boring into one another with the same dark intensity.

"Don't make me tell you again," Oliver stated simply.

Geoffrey lips tightened into a thin line. He hated himself for doing it, but he promptly tore his gaze away from the ghost and muttered between his clenched teeth, "I'll handle it, Richard…"

"Oh, Geoffrey!" Richard practically cheered. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" Then he suddenly remembered to compose himself and covered it up by straightening his tie and clearing his throat. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it? You can tell me all about it in the morning."

"Great," Geoffrey grumbled bitterly and watched as Richard sped away. Feeling defeated, he buried his face in his hands and felt his tight muscles clench even more. He didn't bother looking up again until he heard the office door slam shut.

"What sort of bedevilment is this?" Geoffrey murmured in strained agitation now that he and Oliver were alone. "Now you're forcing me to _handle_ Darren Nichols? Have you lost your mind?!"

Oliver pouted and tried to inspect a mark on the floor with the toe of his shoe. "Well, you _are_ the right man for the job."

"Because I'm the artistic director?"

Oliver snorted. "No. Because you and Darren have a history together."

"Oh, give me a break…" Geoffrey muttered and dumped himself down onto his desk chair. He then proceeded to lick the chocolate off of some paperwork. He shortly cringed at the taste. "I didn't think it were possible for After Eights to be any worse."

"I'm sorry about the mess," Oliver said sincerely. "I find my hold on tangible items… slowly slipping away."

"That's not the only thing that's slipping if you actually think Darren and I can have a rational conversation together."

"I don't."

"You don't?" Geoffrey repeated with insult and sprung up from the desk with desperation. "Then what the hell are you meddling for?!"

Oliver pushed his lower lip out mockingly. "You more than anyone should know that logic never trumps emotion. I'm not asking you to have a rational confrontation with Darren. That would never work between you two buffoons. I think this situation calls for a more emotional approach and you two are just bursting with emotional turmoil."

Geoff faltered for a moment. "I—I don't think Darren trusts my emotions. I sure as hell don't."

"You're more than just management to him, Geoffrey," the ghost reassured eagerly. "There was a time when you two were close. You used to be there for one another. He lost that, but now that you've wandered back into his life, he's testing you. You two have always needed each other and twenty years of denial won't ever change that."

Geoffrey tapped his fingers irritably over his desk and came to a decision. "It's just Darren being Darren!" he quickly dismissed. "The more attention you feed him, the more he acts out. It's just best to leave it be."

"Do you honestly believe that?" Oliver pinned his friend down with a disapproving look. "I think Darren acts out _because _he's not getting the attention he craves. I know Darren likes to pretend he's untouchable, but he feels the pressure, too. You know what that's like, Geoff, so don't bother to deny it. Do you want Darren to face a breakdown like yours?"

Geoffrey slammed his hands down onto his desk. In one swift move, everything went flying to the floor. Oliver pretended not to be affected by the motion.

"What do you suggest I do about it?" Geoffrey demanded to know irritably, as if he already knew the answer.

Oliver pleasantly crossed his arms. "You're a clever boy, Geoff. I'm quite sure you know already. It's common knowledge that you and Darren shared a very special bond back at University."

Geoffrey's top lip twitched. He pretended to shuffle papers that weren't there. "No."

"No what?"

"No!" he repeated with frightening force. "There is no possible way you could know what went on between me and Darren at University!"

Oliver smiled smugly. "Really? You think you were _that_ discrete? Geoffrey, I know precisely what went on between you two behind those dormitory walls."

There was a painful pause before Geoffrey could blink again. When he could finally swallow the lump in his throat, he responded, "So, Darren and I had a romantic relationship. So what?! That was twenty years ago! We all did stupid things when we were young! All we can do is chalk it up to experience."

"But it was more than that, wasn't it, Geoff?" Oliver's tone now was far more intrusive. "Much, much more, wouldn't you say? You two were always neck deep in gentlemen's rivalry, but you always knew where to draw the line and how to keep Darren from crossing it."

Geoffrey slowly shook his head. "What are you saying?"

"I believe I'm referring to the discipline aspect of your relationship, Geoffrey. There was a time when you wouldn't hesitate to put Darren over your knee when you thought he needed it."

There was a long pause while Geoffrey's face contorted into all sorts of expressions. His hands clenched into fists on top of his desk. "No…" he nearly whispered. "No, no, no, no, NO! It is impossible for you to know that!"

Oliver simply shrugged. "It appears as though I plucked a rooted sorrow from your memory."

"Your unhealthy obsession with my personal life didn't occur until years later!" he argued frantically.

"Perhaps," Oliver humored, but it was quite clear that he took pleasure in hearing the tremor in Geoffrey's voice. "Or perhaps you have to face an even greater fear of yours."

"Don't say it… don't you dare say it."

"Maybe I really am just a figment of your imagination," Oliver continued. "Therefore, I know everything your little subconscious doesn't want to admit."

Geoffrey closed his eyes tightly. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, yet Oliver was still there when he opened his eyes again. "Dammit…"

Oliver chuckled sweetly. "It's a tricky one, isn't it? You really can't prove if a ghost is real. I suppose it's something you just have to know deep down inside."

Geoffrey's eyes drifted to the skull on his bookcase. For the first time, the empty sockets of its eyes seemed like endless miles of dark, lonely passageways.

Oliver frowned at the glisten in Geoff's eyes. "We needn't worry about that now. Despite all your issues, you still care about Darren. He's built up this wall. He has no one he can be himself around. He would never allow himself to appear weak in front of his actors. An artist needs to feel his emotions and you, dear Geoffrey, are his outlet."

Geoffrey still stared at the skull as he answered. "Darren's not weak, he's just pigheaded."

"He's stubborn, I'll give you that. But he knows that's his weakness. Sometimes he wants to admit he's wrong, but he's ego won't let him. He can't let anyone know that he's made a mistake. You were the one person he's ever allowed to see him as a human being."

"Pffft, _mistake_," Geoffrey grumbled, then nearly laughed. "The highly acclaimed Darren Nichols doesn't make mistakes! You know what you're problem is, Oliver? You always overcomplicate an issue rather than going directly to the simplest conclusion. Sure, Darren and I had a discipline relationship in the past. But that was twenty years ago! Darren may be looking for a reaction, but it doesn't involve spanking."

"Can you be so sure about that? Do you really think Darren has changed that much in twenty years?"

"YES!" Geoff tried to sound resolute, but he was still battling the sob working its way up his throat. "This relationship that you speak of happened a long, long time ago. We were kids back then! We did a lot of things stupid idiots shouldn't do."

Oliver rolled his eyes, but held his tongue. Geoff watched him for a moment before he settled back into his chair quite mightily. To avoid further eye contact with Oliver, he stared back at the mess on his desk. One piece of paper managed to remain in place. It only took him a moment to read it. When Geoff was done, he slowly peeled it away from the chocolaty, wooden surface and crumpled it in his hands. He chewed his cheek in defeat.

"Darren had previews…." Geoff whispered in reluctant surrender.

"Ha!" the ghost gloated. "Darren can't ever let himself admit he's wrong. Not even over the simplest thing. It's a brutal week for the artist, Geoff. Whatever happened that night, Darren's feeling pretty defeated right about now."

Geoff knew the feeling. He could barely hear Oliver now. He continued to rub his hands all over the stubble around his mouth. "Darren must feel like shit."

"I'm sure he does. He can't allow himself to look like a failure in front of his actors. As the artistic director, you should have been there for the preview. But as a friend, you should have been there to support him. He needed you, Geoffrey."

Geoff tossed the crumpled up paper to the ground. "Darren doesn't handle criticism well… The last thing he wants is another pair of eyes on him. This is an extremely stressful time for any artist."

"And you can take the pressure off of him," Oliver reasoned hopefully. "It does no good to let him simmer. Darren has a vision in his head and he needs that vision to be absolutely perfect. Unfortunately, not too many people agree with his visions. He may be arrogant, Geoff, but it still hurts."

Geoffrey started to pull at the hair on the back of his head. "I don't know, Oliver." Then he went back to rubbing his face. "At University, Darren needed the cathartic release. But now… now we're just too old. So much time has passed between us. We just can't pick up where we left off. I… I just don't know…"

"Well, don't take too long to think about it."

Geoff froze instantly. "Oh, god," he muttered in horror. "What do you mean?"

Oliver smiled. "Time's up."

"WAIT!"

Geoffrey looked up in awful anticipation as Oliver disappeared. His attention was momentarily distracted as he heard a light knock at his door. Then the knock came again and Geoffrey could feel the sweat dripping down his temple.

"You don't have to knock, Oliver," Geoffrey practically pleaded. He just needed it to be his friend behind that door. He couldn't be left alone now.

"Is that some sort of joke?" Darren sneered as he stepped into the office.

Geoffrey gulped and tried to recover. "No, no, come on in. Everything's fine. Just fine."

"There's no need for such shouting," Darren admonished calmly. He slowly loosened the oversized scarf around his neck. "One would think you saw a ghost."

Geoff attempted a laugh, but it was far too forced. Darren furrowed his brow and Geoff knew immediately he made a mistake by laughing at his joke.

Darren's eyes carefully inspected the office. "I think they may need to up your meds," he said as he tried to shake a sticky piece of paper off his shoe. "Oh, good. There's chocolate on my wingtip. I see you decorated your new office with confectionery. Does that make me Hänsel oder Gretel?"

Geoffrey hurriedly cleared his throat and jumped before him. "I… ummm…" he ran a troubled hand through his hair. "What are you doing here?"

Darren looked at him with surprise, so Geoff swallowed audibly. He felt oddly secure having Darren stare back at him, yet it was still very much alarming. He could instinctively feel the quiet thrill it gave Darren to unnerve him so and Geoff knew instantly that he would lose control of this conversation.

"I received a message that you wanted to see me," Darren answered somewhat confused and not a little pitying.

"Who called you?"

"I didn't recognize the voice." Darren looked as though he might smile. A grin definitely played at his lips, but he did not fully succumb. Not yet. "But I was intrigued when I discovered that you, of all people, not only required my presence, but _demanded_ it."

Geoffrey sucked in a sharp breath and cursed at Oliver's meddling. "Richard says—"

"Richard says what?"

Geoffrey groaned at Darren's impatient tone and tried to reign in his frustration. "We're worried about you," he settled on saying. "We're concerned because you haven't shown up to the studio."

Darren's eyebrows lifted in surprise. He casually drifted behind Geoff's desk and took a seat in his chair. "Don't you dote on my very absence, Geoffrey?"

Despite the infuriating way he flounced across a room, the arrogance that usually filled his voice had mostly faded. He actually spoke in what would be considered quite flatly for Darren. Of course, there may have been a hint of accusation still left in his tone.

"As artistic director, I am concerned," Geoff managed to admit civilly.

He could tell immediately that wasn't a wise response. Darren was now studying him through narrow and cautious eyes, and Geoffrey wondered what he saw.

Geoffrey felt uncertainty tear through him. As with any other human being, he felt comfort by turning toward the past. Darren was familiar. He dominated the majority of his memories. But the person who sat before him now had been lost to him for twenty years and Geoffrey did not know if he could still talk to him the way he used to.

Geoff felt his face turn red. He cleared his throat in hopes of regaining some sort of control. "I... I know you had previews—"

"Imagine that," Darren praised jeeringly. "You must know all sorts of little things by being the artistic director."

Geoffrey couldn't fight the obvious feeling that Darren saw beneath his levelheaded façade. He inwardly cursed at Oliver for springing this conversation upon him. He wasn't fit to discipline anyone in this state. He knew Darren could feel him crumbling and Geoff did not care for the sensation.

So, Geoffrey just closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. He could feel his face flush harder by the second. "I know I haven't been the best artistic director to you, but… I just… I just want you to know that I'm here. For _you_."

Darren raised a single eyebrow and Geoff felt his face tighten unbearably.

"You know…" he continued on clumsily. "I'm here for you. Like old times."

Darren slowly crossed his arms and Geoff's stomach started to lurch. All this silence was tearing through his body and making him shake.

"This is a very stressful time for you," Geoff proceeded even though his entire being told him to flee. "I remember how it was for you back at University. I'm here for you, that's all I'm saying. I want you to know that."

"You're _here_ for me?" Darren repeated slowly in disgust. "What the hell is that even supposed to mean?"

Geoffrey's eyes frantically flew around the room. He just needed to get through this conversation without saying the actual words.

"I'm…" Geoffrey cleared his throat and continued to fumble. "I'm _here_ for you," he insisted once more and subtly tapped his belt for good measure.

Then he tapped his belt for a second and third time.

Darren sat up in his chair and was briefly spellbound by the motion. Geoff was mortified that he got the hint so quickly.

"Oh, you wish to minister to a mind diseas'd?" he said with deceptive control. "Just raze out the written troubles of my brain? With what? A swift swat to the rear?"

Geoff stood there blundering. By the time he worked up a response, Darren was already standing before him and there was a distinct chill in the air.

But instead of saying anything more, Darren just threw his scarf back over his shoulder, nearly striking Geoff with it across the face. That's when Geoff finally summoned enough courage to grab his wrist.

Unfortunately, he immediately let go as soon as Darren glared at him.

"You have no idea what I've been through," Darren stated unsteadily as he proceeded to wind the scarf around his neck. "I was made a fool! A fool, Geoffrey, on my own stage!"

Geoff finally started to feel some of the tension ease away from him. Darren was startled and had an urge to make excuses. It seemed possible that things hadn't changed all that much in twenty years.

"Go on," Geoffrey encouraged simply, knowing that the more words he used the more likely he was to offend Darren.

"Marie failed me!" Darren tried to contain his shriek. "Sure, she blames it on a glitch in the light board, but I was still the one left with a blue scene-change light for the entire first three acts! Everything was just so utterly depressing and miserable. I could have worked with that! But when Patrick finally showed up for the fourth act and the lights miraculously appeared, do you know what he said?"

Geoffrey scuffled for an answer, but Darren was too impatient to wait.

"He said, '_Thank goodness that sun came out at last_!' He said that right onstage. In front of everyone!"

Geoffrey scrunched his face and watched as Darren continued to smolder. "What…?"

"They laughed at me, Geoffrey," Darren explained with indignation. "They laughed at me and my precious production. No one prompted Patrick to say that, he just did it of his own accord!"

Geoffrey just blinked several times as he tried to understand the situation. "But it got a laugh. Patrick saved the scene."

"They were laughing, Geoffrey," Darren said irately. "I don't think you quite understand how serious this is."

"It's a comedy!" Geoffrey exclaimed in dismay. "For crying out loud, the audience is supposed to laugh!"

Darren's eyes widen in horror. "Not in _my_ production!"

Geoffrey groaned and started fisting his hands around his unkempt hair. "It's just a little improvising. It happened once! Let. It. Go."

Darren took a step back to shoot Geoffrey a dark glare. "I'll tell you what improvising is," he promised sternly. "Once Jerry forgot to turn his body mic off when he left the stage. During _Somewhere Over the Rainbow_, the only thing the audience heard were the crude sounds emerging from the men's room stall. Now _that_ is improvisational art at its finest!"

Geoffrey hesitated in disbelief. "This… is… **ridiculous**!"

He stared at Darren, marveling at how this outrageous creature could still stir a curious restlessness inside him. Nothing about him was ever predictable and Geoffrey was annoyed that he couldn't find a logical explanation for his unwilling fascination towards him.

"Ridiculous?" Darren repeated back heatedly.

He looked as if he wanted to shout some more, but he instead smoothed his scarf down his chest and murmured softly, "You know what, Geoffrey? Aside from being institutionalized, you were never fully committed."

Geoffrey flinched, but he couldn't force the words out that would make him stay. Darren stormed out of the office and Geoffrey couldn't deny this feeling of relief. He felt his lungs open and he was finally able to breathe in peace.

Of course, he didn't realize how short this moment would be…

"What the hell was that?" Oliver scolded as he reappeared in the room.

Geoffrey groaned and then threw himself down on his knees to clear away some of the papers off his floor. "_That_ was uncomfortable, thank you very much!"

"Where were you, Geoffrey? You weren't part of the conversation at all. Your body was here but your mind was elsewhere."

Geoffrey immediately sprung to his feet to stare Oliver in the eyes. "It's been_ twenty_ years! Twenty damn long years! What the hell was I supposed to say to the guy?!"

"You weren't supposed to say anything," the ghost answered definitely. "Action is eloquence, Geoffrey. You didn't take control at all."

"Excuse me for avoiding a lawsuit!"

Oliver looked away in disgust. "And what the hell was up with all that tapping? Were we playing a game of charades?"

Geoffrey hesitated. He grumbled lowly to himself before he responded, "It was a signal we used to have. When stress got the better of Darren in public, I would tap my belt to let him know he crossed the line. He then knew he would be in for it when we got home. It was simple, straightforward, and efficient…" Geoffrey seemed quite pleased with himself before he added, "Well, it was efficient back then anyways."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "I suppose that would have been more effective if you actually had a belt around your waist and not a piece of rope."

Geoff stood outraged. "Oh. I didn't realize the fashion police allowed ghosts into their cavalry!"

Oliver clapped his hands. "Bravo, Geoffrey. What a revolutionary repartee. Where was your wit just a few minutes ago when we actually needed it?"

"You weren't exactly any help either," he muttered underneath his breath.

"I got Darren here, didn't I?"

Geoff forced a smile. "Thanks!"

Oliver sulked and leaned against the bookshelves. "What are we going to do with the rest of our night now?"

Geoff nearly exploded. "_We_ aren't going to do anything! I've been haunted enough for one evening! I am leaving and you had better not follow! I just want to be alone. I deserve some time to myself!"

Oliver frowned, but let Geoffrey go. Geoff blustered out of the office but practically fell over when he saw Darren sitting quietly on the chair in the hall. Geoff carefully peered over his shoulder, and luckily Oliver had gone.

Geoff gnawed on his inner cheek as he watched Darren for a few moments. In a world of theater where everything was dependent on an audience, Darren still managed to be ensnared within an air of… loneliness.

Geoff controlled the sudden impulse to succumb to his fears and just flee. He slowly made his way over to Darren, leaned against the wall, and just slid down until he was seated on the floor.

Darren was still silent and it annoyed Geoff that he could not fight off the urge to stare at him. Finally, he settled on watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"This reminds me of when we were back in University and performing that shit performance of the Merchant of Venice," Geoffrey whispered hoarsely. "Do you remember that?"

Darren smiled slightly and Geoffrey found it not too hard to look at him now.

"It was opening night and the props crew was desperate to make the decanter look like it was actually filled with wine," Geoffrey continued on softly. He even started chuckling. "Someone had the bright idea to pour black paint into a glass pitcher. It was supposed to dry before the performance, but I didn't know that. I got a mouthful of wet paint. Not only was I choking and struggling not to spit at Bassanio, but all my teeth were blacked out. I ended up taking a swig out of a bottle of alcohol I thought Ellen hid backstage, but it turned out to be nail polish. I've never been so sick."

Darren stirred pleasantly at the memory. "I was furious for days," he admitted with a laugh.

"Yeah… yeah, you were," Geoffrey smiled back. "And do you remember how I handled it?"

Darren squirmed a bit in his seat, but then fully settled into the nostalgia. "You told me we could talk about it as long as I had to in order to get it out of my system. Once the conversation was over, the subject would be closed. If I still couldn't let it go, you promised you would paddle me."

"We talked for _hours_." Geoffrey was pleased at how easy it was to talk to Darren about the subject now. Oliver had been right. Whatever prowled inside him _was_ his history with Darren. "We didn't even take a break to sleep. You were satisfied for what? An entire morning? Sure enough, that paddle came out the very next day."

"And I haven't mentioned it in twenty years..." Darren turned towards Geoff, his face much more approachable. It had an expression of regard Geoff hadn't seen in a long time. From anyone.

Geoff stood up and moaned thankfully as he felt the tension lift away from his muscles. "Come on," he encouraged. "My office is empty."

Geoffrey resisted the urge to take his hand. Instead, he grabbed the knit jersey of his sleeve. He tugged a couple of times until Darren was in his office.

"Nothing's changed," Geoff promised as he sat down on the leatherette sofa.

"Except for a few extra pounds and a lot more wrinkles."

"We're all just as antsy about previews as we ever were," Geoff reassured. "As lame as it sounded, I meant it when I said I'm here for you."

"As artistic director," Darren clarified curtly.

Geoffrey stalled momentarily at having his words thrown at him. "Well, I don't think our relationship can ever fully be professional. We have too much history for that."

Darren nodded and began to unwind the scarf around his neck. He eventually balled it up and let it dropped onto Geoffrey's desk. "How does this work? Do you want me over your desk?"

"Over my knee is fine," Geoff said without even thinking about it.

Darren snorted.

"It's my decision," Geoff stated firmly then he sprung for Darren's wrist. "I'll help you if you want."

Darren fought against his grip. "I am fully capable of doing it myself!"

"Alright," Geoff said backing down and pulling his hands away. "But if I sense you stalling, I will take charge."

"Ridiculous," Darren murmured and started to dust himself off. After several moments of that, Geoff eventually grabbed his elbows and hauled him across his left knee.

"How dare you!" Darren sputtered indignantly as he landed face down. He gasped as he was swatted once on his backside.

"I give the orders around here," Geoff quickly asserted. His left arm tightened around Darren. "You've been stressed enough lately. There's no way I'm going to let you stress out further over draping yourself across my knee. You had enough time and you certainly earned what's coming to you."

"Well, that didn't hurt," Darren insisted stubbornly, referring to the initial swat. "It wasn't all that shocking either."

Geoffrey shoved Darren further so his backside was better presented over his knee. "Good, we'll consider that a warm up then." He then pinned his right leg over both of Darren's. "I'll start with my hand then I'll finish with…" he looked around his office for a better implement. "…my hand."

He rolled his eyes as he felt Darren laugh across his knee.

"You are never prepared, are you, Geoffrey?" he taunted.

"Do you want these pants to come down?" Geoff asked sternly. "I planned on being lenient since it has been twenty years, but we can jump straight to it if that's what you want."

Geoff waited and was quite pleased to feel Darren stiffen beneath his arms. "Well? Pants down or not?"

Darren bit his lip. "I'll hold my tongue from now on. You have my word."

Satisfied, Geoffrey sat up on the sofa and raised his hand to begin the spanking. Darren twitched at the opening swats, but grudgingly accepted it. He buried his face into his folded arms to cover whatever jerky breaths that wanted to escape.

The first slaps were muffled by the fabric of Darren's pants. Geoff was actually thankful that he chose to keep them on. Were he able to remove the pants, his hand would surely sting with the hard smacks on bare skin. Smacking velvet was actually a pleasant sensation. However, with enough time, Darren didn't seem to think so.

Geoffrey noticed that every second Darren got tenser. He couldn't even hide his breath from hitching. Eventually, he was hissing and struggling for every swat.

"See? I am getting a reaction," Geoffrey gloated. "Not bad for just my hand, huh?"

Darren crinkled his face and groaned. He wiggled in quiet embarrassment at Geoffrey's mild teasing, then he wiggled once more when he realized it was warranted. "I guess I w-won't underestimate you again," he promised through his tight throat.

Geoffrey nodded, even though he noted a hint of sarcasm. His hand settled into a steady rhythm of sharp swats and Darren fell into his own rhythm of sniffling and flinching. Geoff soon recognized a sense of comfort in seeing the familiar way Darren squirmed across his lap. His hips kept trying to hop away and every stinging swat added more color to his usually proud face. His nose was scrunched up as he tried to endure what humiliating swats he could and Geoff mused at how he remembered that expression. As he continued to spank Darren, Geoff finally started to feel the heat radiating from underneath the fabric of his trousers.

So, Geoff stopped momentarily. He rubbed his hand over the curve of Darren's bottom, then down the length of the back of his thighs. It felt hot and Darren would still squirm at the touch. His mouth would tighten and hiss when Geoff trailed over a particularly tender spot.

Geoff continued to smooth down the warm fabric as he spoke.

"You don't need this added pressure," Geoff stated simply. Every once and awhile, he would gently pat the backside presented before him. "Some things are out of your control. It takes an entire crew to put on a performance. You can't get hung up by the little things."

"It… wasn't so l-little."

Geoffrey could hear the lingering defiance and pride in his voice. He tried to control his smile.

"It was a glitch," Geoffrey maintained. "It has since been fixed and you won't ever have that happen again. You fix what you can, but there comes a point when you just have to take everything in stride. Don't sabotage yourself because… b-because I know you are capable of greatness."

Geoffrey studied the back of Darren's head. He saw a quick nod.

"Was that supposed to be sincere?" Geoffrey scolded as he landed a swift swat to an already sore backside.

"Christ, Geoffrey!" Darren hissed and violently tried to jerk his vulnerable bottom out of aim. "I nodded! That's all the response you deserve for a stupid statement like that. I've heard that line spoken by the greatest actors in theater, so pardon me if yours pales in comparison."

Geoffrey spanked Darren's upturn backside once again and was impressed with the strangled cry it provoked. "I know we don't always see eye-to-eye when it comes to artistic integrity, but I want you to be the best Darren Nichols that you possibly can. You don't give up. You're… _infuriatingly_ unrelenting! I need to depend on that."

"I quit Hamlet," Darren reminded, "and I was glad to do it."

Geoffrey's face tightened disapprovingly. He then pulled his arm back and delivered several harsh swats all across Darren's backside and Darren could do no more than sputtered, 'ow, ow, ow…!'

"I seem to remember firing you," Geoffrey corrected as he finished with some harder smacks.

Once Darren choked down the sob in his throat, he shot Geoffrey a smug grin. "You d-didn't f-fire me. You didn't have the_ authority_."

Geoffrey responded by spanking Darren until his choked sobs turned into actual sobs. "Who is in control right now?" he asked sternly as he nudged his backside with one finger.

Darren tried unsuccessfully to squirm away from Geoff's prodding finger. He blushed at how childish it made him feel. Then he pouted in defeat, "…you…"

"That's right. Me." Geoff sighed impatiently and rested his hand on Darren's shaking bottom. "You know, I didn't expect this much fighting once I actually got you over my knee. Certainly not after you promised to hold your tongue."

Darren's response was a mixture of sobs and laughter. Geoff could feel his entire body shudder over his knee.

"J-just like old times, r-right G-eoff?" Darren finally sniffled as he found Geoff's foot and gave him a weak pat.

Geoff looked stunned for a moment. "You're right," he whispered thoughtfully. "Just like old times."

Geoff thought back to a time when he actually was in control of his own life. It was when he had someone to stay in control for. So, Geoffrey cleared his throat and readied himself to finish this spanking properly.

"Let's just say, for argument's sake, that you did _quit_," he continued on just to keep the conversation going. "I had backed you into a corner. I made you feel insecure in front of your actors. I've been in that position before. As a director, I should have known better."

Darren sniveled for a moment before responding. "Art is no place for formality, Geoffrey. We should be more than directors to each other."

"You're right." Geoff agreed swiftly. "You are absolutely right. And that's what this is all about." He patted Darren's backside harder this time, not caring how it made him flinch and shake. "I am familiar with your eccentricities and the way you conduct yourself. I am the only one who's ever gotten close enough to you to know when something is wrong. So, I will make you a promise: I am determined to do whatever it takes to harness any irrational behavior."

Appalled, Darren nearly choked on the words. "_Harness my_ behavior?!"

Ignoring that complaint, Geoffrey patted Darren with deceiving lightness. Then his hand came crashing down hard and fast. Darren wailed and protested, but he couldn't fully turn around to block the blows because Geoffrey had his left hand on his shoulder, pinning him down. Darren could do nothing more than gasp and flinch between his tears.

"I won't ever tell you how to direct," Geoffrey promised finally, "but I can help you when you need to let go."

Darren shut his eyes tightly and managed to hold back his sobs long enough for a response. "It's a long night for a director when you live in the moment. P-perhaps I did forget how fleeting one incident can be."

Geoffrey pressed his hand into the next swat and held it there. "_Perhaps_?"

"No, no, not perhaps!" Darren corrected as he writhed regrettably under Geoff's hand. "I absolutely forgot! I will remember n-next time."

Geoffrey smiled quietly and focused his attention back on Darren's backside, which still trembled in anticipation beneath his hand.

"Let's finish this up, shall we?" Geoffrey said and felt Darren clench.

The swats were louder this time and they strengthened Darren's squirming. This new flurry pushed the terrible burn deeper. Darren's hips wriggled and turned as the sting reached his eyes. He sniffled back the tears, but he was murmuring some quiet pleas as he hung his head. He eventually burst into a wailing mess and his struggles finally seemed to waver.

Eventually Darren became limp, but Geoff could still feel him shudder during the spanking. He had landed a number of blows all along Darren's backside. His thighs as well felt singed from some much deserved attention. Finally, Darren Nichols lay yielding and remorseful.

After observing him carefully for some time, Geoffrey lightened his spanks. Now he was just holding him in position to fully get the point across. The swats landed sparingly, but they were still received with a quick jerk and a sob.

Darren cried for the final swat. After rubbing the spot consolingly for a moment, Geoffrey gripped Darren's shoulder and squeeze proudly. Then he helped him to stand. He tried to catch a glimpse of his face, but Darren was always careful to keep his head lowered.

When they were younger, Geoff would take Darren into his arms and comfort him afterwards. There would be a lot of holding, and nuzzling, and falling asleep in each other's arms. But now they were coworkers; no room for romance. Despite how desperately Geoffrey wanted to throw himself back into his old life, he suspected that he was destined to be alone. The only company he was doomed to have was Oliver's when he finally joined him on the other side. It was a glimpse into his future that made him regretful.

"Okay," Geoffrey said softly as he patted Darren's back a couple more times, but he could feel himself getting weepy and he was determined to keep himself together. "You just go stand in the corner for now."

Darren finally looked him in the eye with questioning outrage. "We've never done that before!"

Geoffrey murmured regrettably to himself before he answered. "Well… we're doing things a little differently since University."

Geoff quickly escorted Darren into a corner so there wouldn't be any more discussion about it. He left him by the bookcase still sniveling and quickly retreated to his own desk.

Geoffrey looked down at his desk. It wasn't nearly as unorganized as it was before. He shoved some objects around until everything found its place. Once he was done, Oliver's skull caught his eyes again. Whether he was a figment or a ghost, at least Geoffrey knew a friend was close.

A cough caught his attention and he was reminded of the present situation. He looked across the room at Darren, who was holding his sore backside with both his hands.

Geoffrey pursed his lips. Darren always hovered in the vicinity of annoying, but that impression only came from his air of self-importance and his infuriating pride. Of course, most of the time it was just an act to cover up his own insecurities and Geoff was always able to recognize the honest part of Darren that was hidden beneath.

That was the part of Darren he missed.

"Oh, no..." Geoff's hands immediately clamped over his lips. He could feel his mouth quivering.

'_Oh, dear god, not now_!' he pleaded to himself. But there it was. It began with just a quick sob then it turned into uncontrollable bawling. He sobbed frantically, partly out of mystery and then out of frustration. 'Fuck, _why now_?'

Darren snuck a peek over his shoulder and huffed at what he saw. "You've got to be kidding me?" Indignation was thick on his tongue. "_You're_ the one who's crying?"

"Just turn around!" Geoff swiftly commanded in order to maintain a degree of authority. However, that proved to be difficult with his voice cracking. He brought his hands to his face and continued to cry.

He shivered when he felt the gentle weight of a hand on his shoulder.

"Not now, Darren," Geoffrey implored. But then his tears started to burn at the thought of Darren leaving, so he grabbed Darren's hand and pulled his arm tighter around his neck. He tried to hug it as much as he could.

"I'm sorry," Geoff finally blubbered. "I—I thought this had to do with p-public speaking. But here I am! Weeping like a fool!"

Darren used his free hand to land a pitying pat on his head. "That goes without saying, Geoff. But perhaps you just weep whenever you have something important to say."

Geoffrey inhaled sharply and his next tear didn't fall. He remembered how awkward it was to bring up their old discipline relationship. He could never force the words out. They had to flow through him naturally when he felt safe enough to do so.

"We're going to talk about it," Darren slowly slid his arm away from Geoffrey.

Geoffrey felt the sob returning to his throat. "What… what if the words just n-never come out?"

Darren grinned. "We'll talk as long as we have to until you get it out of your system. All night or longer if we have to. Sound familiar?"

Geoffrey felt his sob quickly turn into a throaty chuckle. Without hesitating, he stood from his chair and wrapped his arms around Darren. He buried his fingers into Darren's tousled hair and felt his damp cheek against his. It would have felt satisfying to embrace anyone again, but embracing Darren was a sensation that always kept him composed.

Darren's arms were pinned underneath Geoffrey's bear hug, so he couldn't quite hug him back. When Geoff moved to twist his hands in Darren's hair, his right arm was finally free to return the embrace.

"I should be the one who's comforted," Darren murmured into Geoff's shoulder.

"Sorry."

"You'll make it up to me," Darren vowed and took a step back. "We'll talk over dinner, but let's go someplace nice. I'm tired of feeling like I'm eating inside a gift shop."

Geoffrey wiped his cheek and checked his watch. "Well, you're not really giving me a lot of options here. Everything closes at eleven."

Darren sighed impatiently. "Where do you usually go on a Thursday night then?"

"Bob's Liquor Market."

"Oh." Darren even managed to sound surprised. "I would have thought you'd be in the theater's cellar performing strange occult rituals with your friend."

Geoff offered a slight smile. "I guess Oliver stood me up."

Darren nodded pleasingly. "Bob's Liquor Market it is. I don't care much for sitting in a restaurant now anyways." He smiled briefly as he rubbed his backside. "Find something suitable and meet me at my place. You should have my address on file."

"Hold up," Geoffrey ordered as Darren turned around. Then he pulled him back into the office by his wrist. "Nahum left hours ago. We don't have to worry about being seen walking out together."

"Just in case." Darren's voice was quiet with embarrassment. "I mean, any fool can tell that I've been crying."

"I'm the one that looks like I've been crying," Geoffrey corrected honestly. Then he grabbed Darren's scarf from the desk and slowly began to wrap it around the other man's neck. He adjusted it until it wasn't so snug, allowing Darren the time just to look back at him silently.

"And that's pretty commonplace around here," Geoff admitted regrettably.

He stopped fidgeting with Darren's scarf and felt something inside him ease. There was a warmth between them even when they weren't embracing each other.

Darren nodded along. He saw that Geoff appeared to have himself under control, but unshed tears still glistened in his eyes.

"Oh, very well," Darren surrendered. He eventually smiled. "You get your way yet again. Just like old times."

At the sound of Darren's laughter, Geoffrey chuckled back and slung his arm over his shoulder as they walked out of the office together.


End file.
